Of Miscreants and Men
by Ithurielistic
Summary: Loki is back, and the Avengers scramble to find him amidst threats of alien invasion. Only, why is he hiding? And why are two humans trying so hard to protect him? Not everything is as it seems, and the Avengers soon learn that they have much more than just Loki on their plate. AU, Loki & Tony-centric / no pairings. Previously "Before the Morn."
1. The Beginning

"What's the status?" Iron Man swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding being crushed by another hulking machine. He finished it off with a quick repulser blast and moved on to the one that instantaneously took its place. "'Cause I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit overwhelmed here."

"Stuff it Tony, we're all tired." Clint's voice rang through Tony's earpiece accompanied by a slight crackle of static. Another bot hit the asphalt before Tony's eyes, sparking and fizzling, with an arrow in its head. Tony glanced at the nearby rooftops while blasting two robots' heads off at once with his repulsers. "Where are you, by the way-"

"Three more incoming on your left, Cap!" Tony was cut off by Natasha's hurried warning as she battled three bots at once, jumping off of an overturned taxi and straddling the largest one's head. "Get moving!" she said, twisting the bot's head off with a jerk and sickening crunch.

In the street below, Steve was busy hurling his shield left and right at the bots, seemingly a red and white blur to onlookers. He caught his shield once more and quickly blocked an energy blast curtesy of the incoming machines. "Thanks!" he breathlessly yelled in reply.

"Jeez, you know you don't have to yell, right?" Tony griped, holding his head. "My ears have had about enough of you yelling in them."

"Just focus on disposing of the bots for once, Stark," was Steve's reply, and afterwards he actively ignored anything else Tony had to say.

~x~

Once the robots — aptly and somewhat hilariously named 'doombots' after their maniacal creator, Victor Von Doom — had all been disposed of, the Avengers, barring Thor, returned to the tower, where Bruce had been awaiting their return holed up in the lab. Despite Tony's attempt at persuasion, he had stubbornly refused to join them in that day's battle. Going 'big and green' wasn't something he enjoyed, apparently.

Tony had opted for shawarma, but was outvoted by his teammates four to one. When they settled down in their usual lounge area, bruised and battered, it was with Chinese takeout, much to Tony's chagrin. "Nobody ever wants shawarma these days but me," he whined, holding a box of fried rice with two fingers and scrunching up his face disgustedly.

"You always want shawarma, Tony," Clint sighed, picking at lo mien awkwardly with his left hand. His right had been sliced and diced by flying metal shrapnel and had required stitches. Clint now gingerly propped the heavily bandaged limb on the armrest of the armchair he had claimed, and acted as if it didn't exist. "After eating it every day for a week, I can safely assume we're all done with shawarma." he paused for a moment before saying sarcastically, "Oh wait, except you."

"I don't understand your obsession with shawarma, Stark," Steve chipped in, sitting on the couch with a bucket of sesame chicken and a fork firmly clasped between his fingers, as if someone was going to try and forcefully replace it with chopsticks. Poor guy never could use them correctly.

Now that he was close, Tony noticed the large, dark circles underneath his eyes. Trying to brighten up the mood, Tony rejoinder was, "It's not an obsession, guys! Honestly, I don't even really know what shawarma _is,_ but it, you know, symbolizes victory?" Tony started out strong, but at his teammates' deadpan faces his words twisted into a question. "No? Okay." he glanced around the room. "You guys are no fun. I bet Thor would want shawarma."

"Well he's not here, is he?" Steve spoke up. Tony still rued the day Rodgers had learned to use sarcasm. "He's up in Asgard, dealing with Loki and God-knows-what for the last five months. Not that I mind," he added.

"I'm sure Point Break will stop by for a visit sometime," Tony said, but his heart wasn't really in it. They didn't even know the big guy that much after all, as after the battle he had returned to Asgard with his brother. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and clouds covered the already darkening sky. "See? I bet he's saying hi from As-whatever."

Nobody spoke after that. Tony didn't blame them — after fighting the doombots (the name still made him snicker), even he was dead tired. Natasha looked like she was about to fall asleep (something she rarely did in front of others) in the remainder of her fried shrimp, the dark circles under her eyes accentuated by a steadily purpling bruise blossoming on her cheek, and Bruce was softly snoring in an uncomfortable-looking un-cushioned chair. Tony really needed to get rid of that. There was no place for uncomfortable furniture in his tower!

Soon Rodgers, Nat, and Clint filtered out, going to their respective floors to crash, and Bruce stayed asleep in the wooden-backed chair. Tony didn't really have the heart to wake him, and retired to his room, falling asleep not a minute after collapsing on the bed.

A sharp crash awoke Tony with a jolt. "Wha-" he began dazedly, but then realized it had just been a loud roll of thunder. He glanced about the room somewhat sleepily before plopping his head back down on a pillow. He tossed and turned on top of rumpled sheets for almost an hour more before giving up.

"Uggghhhhh…." he groaned when it was clear that sleep had escaped him. Grumbling to himself about thunderstorms, he hauled himself up and stumbled into the kitchen's bar for some bourbon. Or any type of alcohol, really. Tony really needed some liquid happiness at the moment. He fumbled around on the wall blindly for a few moments, tripping on a rug and stubbing his toe on a chair. "Ow," Tony grumbled, flailing for the light-switch once more. He paused for a moment before suddenly getting the urge to smack his forehead against the nearest wall.

"JARVIS, the lights?"

"Of course, sir," the AI complied.

The lights flicked on and Tony yelped and shielded his eyes from the influx of brightness. "Not that bright!" Tony grumbled. "Dimmer, JARVIS. Dimmer."

"Naturally, sir," JARVIS said crisply, muting the lights to a more acceptable level.

When Tony's eyes finally adjusted to the albeit dimmer light, he was greeted with the sight of his kitchen — utterly trashed. There were boxes and cartons littered across the tile, all the cabinets were wide open, and the spice rack hung haphazardly, halfway torn from the wall; the expensive spices it once held cluttering the sink.

Alcohol forgotten for the time being, Tony felt his heart rate quicken. Someone had obviously intruded into his tower — the question was, why hadn't JARVIS picked up on it? The AI was obviously functional. The whole situation was confusing. Why would someone break into his tower, somehow bypassing JARVIS, and raid his kitchen? It made absolutely no sense. Tony frowned; should he do the sensible thing and wake everyone, or find this 'intruder' on his own? Then again, the last thing he wanted at the moment was to be strangled by a half-asleep Clint or be lectured by Cap for being paranoid. After a moment's deliberation, Tony opted to _not_ wake the others up.

Before he could even begin investigating, a soft rustle came from the next room. Tony crept towards the door, relishing the feeling of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He paused at that; _god, now I'm an adrenaline junky,_ Tony thought, resuming walking. He peered through the partially cracked door (the one he swore he closed earlier that night).

It was dark within the room, but an audible crackling — like someone fumbling with a wrapper — sounded from within. A figure sat on the couch, holding something shiny, but Tony couldn't tell what.

Steeling himself for whatever (horror) was in the room, Tony burst through the door; at the same moment, a flash of lightning lit up the room, accompanied by a resounding crackle of thunder, revealing light blue eyes, longish blonde hair, unhumanly broad, muscular shoulders, and-

"What the hell, Thor? Break into my house just to raid my portrait supply, huh? JARVIS, get the lights."

"As you wish, sir," the AI complied.

The golden god had enough decency to look chagrined. All in all it was a comical sight — Thor had crumbs and smatterings of pop-tart filling in his beard, a mangled box of poptarts clutched in his arms, and his cheeks were bulging with the breakfast pastries, from what Tony could tell. Littering the previously spotless carpet, hundreds of poptart wrappers were scattered in every direction.

Swallowing everything with some difficulty, the thunder god threw out his arms, "Man of Iron! It is good to see you once more. These pastries are most delectable."

"Yeah, well," Tony began, raising an eyebrow, "once I heard of your infatuation I stocked up a bit. So you just decided to stop by, with no warning, and eat our pop-tarts in the middle of the night?"

"I was told that it is impolite, by Midgardian customs, to wake someone from slumber in their homes. Therefore, I waited here," Thor gestured animatedly towards the lounge they were in, "and I found myself in need of sustenance."

"Thor, buddy, you don't just…" Tony trailed off. Trying to teach Thor about earth's culture was life trying to teach a horse to do the tango — it just didn't happen. "You know what, never mind. Anyways, if you don't mind me asking, why are you here? It's not that you're not welcome, it's just… you've been gone for almost half a year. We tried to contact you, you know. Why come back now?"

It was true; there had been a few times when the Avengers had almost been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of terrorists (super-villains, really) popping up. They had called for him, but Thor hadn't come to their aid. Now that they had everything perry much under control — this was when he decided to arrive? Tony couldn't help but feel slightly resentful.

Thor's face became grave, and Tony tensed. "I fear I do not bring glad tidings."

"And?" Tony prompted impatiently. "it can't be that bad if you're sitting around eating my food," he snarked.

Thor grimaced, "You see, Son of Stark, it bad news that I bring to you. My brother is missing."

~x~

 **Hello, dear reader. If you liked this please leave a review. This started out as a one-shot, but I decided to change the ending because I've had an idea for a longer Avengers fic for a really long time. At this point, though, I'm not sure if I'll have enough motivation to get it done. If you think I should continue it, please tell me, and likewise if you think I should turn it into a one-shot permanently.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~Ithurielistic**


	2. Tony Really Needs to Sleep Gosh

_I know I've been gone for, like, twenty years with this one, but I recently found this next chapter that I wrote and never posted, and I've decided to start writing this again! Hope you enjoy it!_

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 _"You see, Son of Stark, it bad news that I bring to you. My brother is missing."_

"What?" Tony exploded, jerking back in surprise, "Are you kidding me right now?"

Thor's brow furrowed in confusion, "I would not jest about so serious a matter, Son of Stark. I-"

"No! That's not what I… Whatever. Why didn't you tell me right when you got here? This doesn't just affect us, Thor! It affects everyone on Earth!" Tony ranted.

"I…did not think of that." Thor conceded, and Tony nearly smacked his forehead in dismay. "Regardless, he is not so dangerous as you think. Not anymore, at least."

"Go on," Tony waved a hand at him.

"The Allfather saw fit to cast a spell upon him, as a measure to ensure he would never harm another ever again." Thor's brow was still furrowed. "His strength and magic cannot be used through malicious intent or will to harm attempt to use it as such is as painful as being cut by bound, he has hardly the strength to do any harm to your people."

Tony sighed, anger evaporated and replaced with a sort of weariness. "Thor, buddy, it might be like that on Asgard, but the people here are a lot… weaker, more breakable. Squishier. Compared to you, we're pretty much like marshmallow puffs."

Thor opened his mouth once, then closed it.

"Holy hell," Tony breathed, more than a little done with the situation. "JARVIS, wake up the others. They're gonna want to hear about this."

-

"Uh, what?"

"How could this happen?"

"What the hell?"

The Clint, Bruce, and Steve bombarded Tony with questions rapid-fire while Natasha regarded him sourly. "Guys, I-" he struggled to get a word in. "Guys!" he finally yelled, and they all snapped to attention, looking at him in surprise. "First: Brucey, you should probably go get some green tea or weed or something, 'cause you're looking a bit green around the gills," Tony said, holding up one finger authoritatively.

Bruce visibly tried to calm himself. He exhaled and inhaled forcefully a few times. "Yeah. I'll just… leave." He left the room quietly. This left Tony to deal with the three others looking at him with a mixture of confusion and outrage.

"Second," Tony continued, holding up a second finger, "If you want answers, I'm not your man. Ask Thor over here. I mean, he's the one who dropped the bomb on me in the first place. Sorry, buddy," he added, speaking to the demigod sitting forlornly on the sofa. Tony almost felt bad for unleashing his teammates' questioning on him. Almost. Then again, it really was Thor's fault for springing this whole ordeal on them at four in the godforsaken morning.

Their wrath and/or anxiety now safely directed at Thor (sorry not sorry), Tony put a hand over his eyes and sat down on the couch, still. God, he was tired. Yet another reason to be mad at Thor, his brain supplied not-so-helpfully. He was irritated, yeah, but not really mad. Tony filtered out his friend's voices until they were mere annoyances, like a mosquito buzzing around his ear.

It felt like only a few seconds that he'd zoned out, but apparently it was more than that.

"-ny? Tony!" a hand shook his shoulder and Tony flailed upright.

"Whazzit?" he said, brain still fuzzy. His mind connected the voice to Clint's. "Oh."

"Dude, you fell asleep." Clint's face swam into focus. He felt like he was swimming in a lake full of pillows.

"Oh," Tony was somewhat off-put. "You're weirdly calm. Weren't you all freaking out, like, two seconds ago?"

"What? No, man, it's been at least," at this Clint looked at the clock. "half an hour. We're mostly not freaking out now."

The clock did read4:37.

So maybe Tony missed a few things.

"Thor's just been telling us about this whole… situation. So, you got none of that, I take it? Wow." Someone to Tony's right scoffed.

He sat up (he didn't even know he was laying down before, weird), insulted. Cap and Natasha were both sitting on the couch across from his, looking bizarrely comfortable in a sea of pop-tart wrappers.

"I need my beauty sleep, okay?" he shot at Rodgers, who he assumed was the source of the scoffing. "So, I take it the general consensus is we're not freaking out now? Cool. Dandy. What'd I miss that caused this weird change in direction?"

"Well, to start it off, we just learned that Loki's pretty much harmless as a fly right now. Right, Thor?"

Thor nodded.

"Otherwise, yeah, I would be shitting my pants right now. And… that's pretty much it.  
Way I see it, why should we bother with finding the guy if he's not a threat?"

Thor looked a little put off by that. "There are some — although very few, I grant — ways that he could break this spell, son of Barton. Would it not be better to act cautiously? My brother is devious. His schemes are—"

"You just want us to help you get him back for your dad, am I right?" cut in Clint. "Yeah, I bet I am."

Thor bristled. "I am more concerned with the safety of this planet than—"

"Oh, give it a break. There have been plenty of times we could've used your help 'for the safety of this planet', and where were you? Not here, that's where," said Clint, eyes gleaming.

Tony felt the same way, pretty much, but Clint was getting pretty worked up.

"Calm down," Steve butted in. "It's obvious that both of you have different opinions, but we can work this out."

"Hell no," Clint said, getting even more worked up. "If I don't have to, I'm not getting near Thor's brother. Period.

Tony noticed Natasha staring at Clint, calculating.

"It is imperative that Loki is retrieved!" said Thor, louder this time.

Tony decided to jump in. "Hey, guys, come on. Steve-o's got a point. We can work this out." Steve looked mildly surprised that Tony was agreeing with him. Well, it wasn't like he was above reason. "Whaddya say, I work on something to track Loki. His magic's radiation-based, right? I can do that. I'll enlist Brucey's help, easy-peasy. We find him, Thor can deal with him, game over. That way you," he pointed at Clint, "don't have to deal with it. Deal?"

Clint was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, sounds good. Deal."

"Now, let's go to bed. If Lokes isn't a problem, then I'm, like, actually two-hundred percent done with this right now. Thor, you get to sleep on the couch in your mess, 'kay?" Tony said, already rising and stumbling towards his room. "G'night."

The others followed not far behind him. Tony could hear Natasha speaking to Clint in a low murmur.

It wasn't his business, though. He could pry another time. Right now, sleep was his number one priority.

As he collapsed, finally, on his bed, Tony remembered that he'd never gotten any alcohol in this entire endeavor. He groaned into his pillow, and within the next two minutes he was snoring.

His problems could wait until tomorrow. 


End file.
